


interruptions

by hydrospanners



Series: renegade [13]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrospanners/pseuds/hydrospanners
Summary: Nirea Velaran takes an almost childish delight in doing things she shouldn’t, and Doc would be lying if he said he didn’t love it.





	interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Written for Advent 2017.

He sees the light come on in the corner of his eye. Little pulses of red, coming from the intercom. Doc decides whatever the critical situation is, it can wait. He’s having his own critical situation right now and he’s gotta come first sometimes.

Well. Maybe not in those exact words. He is a gentleman after all, and always puts the needs of his lady companions ahead of his own.

He ignores the light, burying his face in the crook of Rea’s neck. He nips at that delicate skin as he runs his hands along her back. Her muscles are taut beneath his touch, and he loves the feel of them shifting beneath his fingers.

He does  _not_ love the feel of her arm slipping out from between them, reaching for that stars-damned intercom.

“Rea…” he groans.

“Might be important,” she says, and he can hear her coy smile even if he can’t see it right now. Cruel woman.

“ _This_ is important.” He claws his hands down her back, taking hold of that tight, ample ass and pulling her hard against him. She gasps in the most delightful way, grabbing his hair in fistfuls as she grinds her hips down. He wants–

“Velaran here,” Rea announces in that casually confident, I’m-here-to-take-care-of-business voice she has. “The good-looking one.”

Doc pulls away from her throat just enough to look at the intercom. The light’s turned green.

“Master Jedi,” General Var Suthra’s voice pierces the veil of sex in the room. It drops the temperature a full twenty degrees and Doc is sure if he doesn’t take quick action, there will be no further  _action_ tonight. “Sorry to call at this hour, but we’ve got a situation we could use your help with.”

“Kind of in the middle of my own situation, General. A big one.” Rea grins as she slides her hand back into the narrow space between their bodies, teasing said ‘situation’ with her clever little Jedi fingers. Her eyes sparkle as she toys with him, and Doc feels something not entirely unlike a freshly-roasted marshmallow expanding in his chest. His throat clenches around the feeling, trying to drive it back down before it bubbles out of his mouth as something stupid like ‘I love you’ or ‘Let’s do this for forever’.

He’s got to get a hold of himself. Ideally by getting a hold of  _her_.

“I understand, Master Jedi,” Var Suthra goes on, oblivious. “But if you can give me a moment to explain–”

Rea grips him in her calloused fist–-her rough skin feels blindingly good there-–and lifts her hips. Before he can so much as blink, she drops down, burying him inside her in one smooth motion. A million words run through his brain–-tight, wet, hot, karking  _good_ –-but he short circuits before they make it to his mouth, and they come out in garbled, happy groans.

Distantly, he hears Var Suthra say, “What was that?” But mostly his ears are filled with the sound of rushing blood and his own labored breathing.

“It’s nothing,” Rea pants above him, still grinning like a madwoman. She closes her hand over his mouth as she starts to move, muffling the sounds he can’t seem to help making. “Go ahead, General. I’m listening.”

Var Suthra is rambling something Doc only half hears about coordinated offensive maneuvers as their hips rise and fall, roll and grind. The pace is almost agonizingly slow, but the sudden, sharp thrusts feel breathtakingly good, and there’s something delicious about the lingering way they come apart. There’s a piece of him that still marvels at how effortless this is, at how easily they can find their rhythm. He figures she must be reading his mind, but can’t bring himself to care.

Doc keeps a firm grip on Rea’s ass with one hand–-she likes that just as much as he does-–but slips the other down between her thighs, initiating a coordinated offensive maneuver of his own. Her hand over his mouth muffles his laughter as she bites down hard on her own lip, trying to silence the sounds of her pleasure as Var Suthra drones on. Doc has no idea what he’s saying. He doesn’t care.

He’s never imagined their sex could be more fun, but he never imagined a lot of things before he met Rea. She’s a surprising woman.

They let the rhythm build slowly, driving each other wild with mouths and fingers, trying to bury moans and laughter in each other’s skin as Var Suthra complains about Imperial resistance and bemoans necessary sacrifice. Doc hardly hears him, but that doesn’t keep the thrill from streaking down his spine at what they’re doing. Fucking in the middle of a call with Command. It’s not like the General can see them, but it still feels forbidden.  _Deliciously_ forbidden.

In the moments when his brain is firing on enough cells to form a thought, he wonders at his luck. At finding this. At finding Rea. He’s never known anyone else who would do this. Who would take such  _delight_ in doing this. It makes that marshmallow feeling in his chest expand until those stupid words almost slip out of his mouth. Lucky thing there’s so much else for his mouth to do.

It’s everything Doc can do to hold out until Rea comes, but she makes it worth his while when she does. It’s spectacular. The line her body makes as she arches her back, tossing her head back over her shoulders. The way she moans as her fingers dig deep into the muscles of his thighs. He might be imagining things, but he’s pretty sure there’s actual sparks of electricity leaping off her skin. Hell, she might even be glowing.

He tumbles over the edge while she clenches around him–-it’s always extra good when they manage to do this at the same time–-but Doc doesn’t let his eyes fall shut like they want to. He keeps them fixed on her; he doesn’t want to miss a second of this.

He only remembers Var Suthra and the intercom after Rea fills the air with a long sigh. Her muscles are still twitching around him as she comes-– _ha-_ –down. Doc can’t say for sure what sounds he made at the end there, but he knows they happened. He knows they were loud.

Var Suthra clears his throat.

The sound makes Rea jerks upright, her eyes bright with laughter that she tries to smother under both her hands. Doc has to bite his lip to keep from giggling himself. He feels like a karking teenager again.

“Well, I’ll uh…” The General coughs. “I’ll let you get back to your, uh–-your  _situation_ , Master Jedi.”

“Thank you, General,” Rea says, breathless. “And I’ll get right on that problem of yours. You can expect our arrival by 0600.”

There’s a pregnant pause and Doc wonders if he’s going to say something. If he’s going to ask. He almost hopes the General does, if only to hear whatever crazy banthashit Rea answers with.

“You have the Republic’s gratitude,” he finally says, the words so fast they run together. “Var Suthra out.”

The green light on the intercom goes dark, and they fall together, boneless and laughing like children.


End file.
